


Malcolm and the Great Outdoors

by vanillafluffy



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Campfires, Camping, Fishing, Gen, Night Terrors, Wilderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 21:53:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20955494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillafluffy/pseuds/vanillafluffy
Summary: From the prompt, "a relaxing weekend in the Fingerlakes". Malcolm and JT go fishing, but Malcolm is never free of his demons for long.





	Malcolm and the Great Outdoors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cornerofmadness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cornerofmadness/gifts).

> Opinions expressed by the author may not be supported by canon. (AKA Canon has ripped me a new one...oh well.)

“So, where exactly is the cabin?” Malcolm asks, looking around the clearing.

“Cabin?” JT chuckles. “Who said anything about a cabin? It’s just us and the great outdoors.”

That’ll teach him to make assumptions. When JT diffidently asked if he’d like to come along for a fishing weekend, he’d pictured a rustic cabin with a dock, or maybe a river running past the front porch. Instead, JT’s driven them into the woods and parked the Jeep In an open area with the lake glinting beyond a fringe of trees. 

“Never been camping before?”

“Not really, no. I was never in Boy Scouts.” He doesn’t say the obvious--that his family wasn’t the wholesome, back-to-nature type. Of course, JT knows that. He’s been less hostile lately--Malcolm believes he’s starting to achieve a rapport with the detective--so he smiles and says, “It always sounded like fun.”

Clearly, JT has some experience at this. He directs Malcolm to help set up their campsite, which takes shape with a minimum of fuss. Within the hour, their gear is unpacked from the Jeep, they’ve set up a fire-pit and gathered a good supply of kindling from the nearby woods. Observing the relaxed expression of JT’s face and the bounce in his step, it’s easy to see he’s really enjoying this. Malcolm hadn’t suspected that the usually surly cop harbored dreams of being a rugged outdoorsman, but the proof is wearing a flannel shirt and jeans and rummaging through a tackle box. 

Malcolm has never been fishing in his life, but JT demonstrates how to cast and encourages him when his first attempts fall short.

He doesn’t catch anything, but he enjoys the scenery. The rolling hills and lush green trees are such a contrast to the grey Manhattan streets…it’s peaceful.

JT catches two good-sized fish and a smaller one that he releases. Malcolm is surprised by how deftly he guts and fillets the fish, and he’s no slouch at cooking them over the fire, either. From one of the coolers, he produces a bag of greens, and supper is a tasty plateful of fish and spinach.

It turns out that JT’s a pretty good storyteller, too. Malcolm asks a few questions about camping in general, and JT reminisces about various trips he’s taken. Apparently, his family _is_ the wholesome, outdoorsy kind--as a kid, he got to camp in a lot of national parks--one or more every summer--and his dad and uncles were always up for fishing, even if it was just an afternoon spent on a local pond.

Laying in his sleeping bag, looking up at the star-spangled black velvet sky, Malcolm drifts off to sleep and enjoys the most restful night he’s known in years. 

Saturday dawns clear and crisp. He has to force himself to get up, but once he’s moving around, the slight chill in the air is invigorating. In another week or two, the leaves will start changing, but right now they’re perfectly balanced on the cusp of summer and fall.

After a breakfast of scrambled eggs (from the cooler) and biscuits baked in JT’s cast-iron skillet, they head out to fish again. This time, they hike along the shore of the lake to a cove JT knows. He touts it as a primo fishing spot and says it’s worth the effort.

The trail is easy to follow and the cove is less than a mile away. A bank of rocks occupies one side. Several fallen trees span the water, bare branches going in every direction. 

“Cast small,” JT advises him. “You don’t want to get your line tangled in that mess.”

His efforts are rewarded with two fish. JT pulls in three. “Good eating tonight,” he says with satisfaction as they walk back to the campsite.

Sitting by the fire, Malcolm has to admit, he’s enjoying himself more than he ever would have expected. Jessica’s idea of a weekend getaway was the Hamptons or maybe Virginia Beach. Her idea of suitable activities for him were concerts and the theater, maybe a museum or two. Educational, yes, fun, not so much.

He falls asleep quickly after the exertions of the day. For a time, his sleep is deep and dreamless. Then, it’s not.

_Dad is right there in his face. “Boy, give it up! Why can’t you leave what’s dead buried?”_

_“Because it’s not buried!” he retorts. “Not properly. She must have people somewhere who love her! Who want to know where she is, what happened to her!”_

_“Don’t get sentimental on me, son. Be objective. Be a scientist.” Which terrifies him, because a title like that, so similar to ‘The Surgeon’--it’s easy to imagine ‘The Scientist’ continuing Martin’s legacy._

_“Where is she?” he demands._

_“I told you to leave it!” his father roars, and shoves his chest, hard._

_As he falls, Malcolm feels the shock of betrayal. His dad has never physically assaulted him before._

“Malcolm? Malcolm?” Something wet is patting his face. “Jesus, are you okay? Wake up!”

For a moment, he’s totally confused. He isn’t in his apartment, he’s not restrained…there’s a flashlight shining in his face. “JT? What the heck is going on?” Oh, right. Fishing weekend….

“Dude, you scared the hell out of me. You just--are you okay? He clobbered you pretty good.”

Malcolm is puzzled, because how does JT know about his dream, about Dad shoving him away? He can still feel that hard blow against his sternum.

“He who?” he asks cautiously.

“I think you hit your head when you fell. How many fingers am I holding up?”

“One. What the hell happened?”

“We had a visitor. I woke up, and there was a bear leaning over your sleeping bag, sniffing you. Then you jumped up and started yelling at it. I think you startled him, because he pushed you down and took off into the woods.”

With a shaky laugh, Malcolm sits up, realizing for the first time that he’s no longer in his borrowed sleeping bag. “An actual bear?”

“Yeah, he probably smelled our dinner and wanted to see if he could scrounge any food. At this time of year, he’s getting ready to hibernate.” Even it four a.m., JT still sounds like a Bear Grylls knockoff. “My fault, I should have taken everything down to the lake and washed it when we were done.”

“No harm done…but I don’t think I’m going to be able to get back to sleep.”

“I know the feeling!” By the light of the flashlight, JT looks uneasy. “I don’t think he’s gonna come back, but I’d just as soon not find out. I’ll stoke the fire back up--that should keep him away--and when daylight gets here, we can break camp. Okay?”

“Sounds good to me.” 

It won’t be dawn for another couple hours, and it’s downright cold--he brings more kindling from their woodpile as JT pokes the embers in the fire-pit. Soon, a small blaze is crackling. With their sleeping bags draped over their shoulders, they savor its warmth.

“I always heard that if a bear confronted you, that standing tall and making yourself look big could scare it off--but I never would’ve had the balls to try it,” JT admits. “I was going to play dead and hope it went away. To tell you the truth, Malcolm, I thought you were going to be a lot prissier about camping, but you’ve been good company. We could do this again some time, if you’re up for it.”

Malcolm smiles in the flickering firelight. “I’ve really enjoyed it. Except for the bear,” he says, but although it’s been fun, he doesn’t commit to another trip, because a bear isn’t the only monster that might disturb him in the night.

...


End file.
